Walk Like An Egyptian
by Boogum
Summary: "What's the matter, love? Can't stand on your own two feet?" He eyed her from head to foot. "Then again, I'm not surprised with that outfit. It's a wonder you even manage to walk at all."
1. Walk Like An Egyptian

**Disclaimer: Anything you recognise isn't mine.**

**A/N: The idea for this story actually originated from a conversation about 'Mystery Majors' and archaeology at **_**The DG Forum**_**. Of course, that just naturally turned into a discussion about Ginny wearing a tweed outfit and heels in the desert, while Draco, the sun-kissed archaeologist, amuses himself at her expense. Right.**

**In any case, the plot bunnies have attacked, and here I am writing the story. Aerileigh and MemoriesFade will also be writing their own versions, so I definitely recommend you check out their fics too. (And, yes, I am writing this to bind them to their word, lol.) Also, the title of this fic comes from a song by The Bangles, which I just happened to be listening to while writing it.**

**Anyway, enough of my ramblings. To the desert we go!**

**Walk Like An Egyptian**

Ginny Weasley had always been a rather impulsive girl. She liked to think it was because she was naturally spontaneous and needed constant excitement in her life. Jobs, after all, were so tedious and restricting. How could her boss possibly expect her to work everyday? It was ridiculous. Didn't he understand that she had a life outside of work? Not everything revolved around him and his precious café. And, really, those uniforms he made her wear simply could not be tolerated. She had red hair. She could not possibly wear an orange dress. It was just too tacky, and whatever Ginny Weasley may be, she was most definitely not tacky.

And that was why she had quit the next day. Her mother had hysterics when she found out, as anyone who knew Ginny could state quite honestly that the girl would never be able to get another job with her track record, but the redhead in question didn't seem to be too fazed by her now jobless state. She had always thought she was destined to marry a rich man (or at least she hoped so), so it didn't even occur to her that there might be a problem with having no vocational prospects. Besides, the last thing she was going to do after quitting her job was to look for a new one. In Ginny's world, quitting a job meant it was time to have a holiday.

Which brings us back to Ginny Weasley being a rather impulsive woman. You see, taking a 'holiday' may be all very well for a person to do after quitting a job, but the redhead's idea of a nice holiday was not taking a few weeks off to laze about the house until she felt energised enough to look for a new job. No, her idea of a having a holiday was to use the rest of her 'college fund' to buy a portkey to Egypt and give a surprise visit to her brother Bill.

Well, he was most certainly going to get a surprise when he received his penniless (and now jobless) sister on his doorstep. Or would that be camp-step? Ginny didn't really know, but she did know that she needed new clothes. After all, how could she possibly go to Egypt in the old rags she was wearing now?

It was unfortunate that no one accompanied her on that shopping expedition. Ginny's brain didn't function on 'practical'. She only saw the image of herself wearing the cutest tweed skirt and matching jacket (in her mind, it was suitable for an archaeological dig site simply because it was made of tweed), with a white parasol to protect her from the sun. And that was exactly what she had found, and also happened to be what she was wearing when she finally made it to the dig site where her brother was working. However, she had gone further than just buying the tweed outfit and parasol. Ginny had also chosen to wear a silk blouse (cream-coloured to complement the tweed, of course) under the jacket, and, as if that wasn't enough, she then chose to wear stiletto heels on her feet. But they really were so adorable, and how could she _not_ wear them when they matched her outfit perfectly? Plus, they were only twenty sickles. It would have been a crime not to buy them.

Still, Ginny did wish that maybe she hadn't chosen to wear the heels. Bill had certainly said nothing about how difficult it was to walk on sand while wearing heels in any of his letters. Nor had he mentioned that wearing a skirt more suitable for an office secretary would make things awkward for her. She thought he could have at least mentioned how unbearably hot it was in Egypt, but he had omitted that one too. It was really quite thoughtless of him.

And where was Bill anyway? The man she had spoken to had told her that she would find him at the dig site, but she had yet to see him.

Ginny huffily scanned the dusty landscape for a trace of her brother, ignoring the lobster-coloured men who stared at her in some perplexity and admiration, though some did just laugh at the odd appearance she made. Some of them were even daring enough to whistle at her, but after Ginny gave them her best basilisk glare, they soon went back to doing whatever they were doing in their big holes.

Idiots. Did they really think she would even consider them? Not one of them had a whit of fashion sense. And why would she want to date a grubby man who spent his time digging holes in this godforsaken place? She wanted a suave businessman. Someone who would take her to fancy restaurants and spoil her something terrible. She wanted—

Ginny let out a shriek as her heel twisted in the sand, sending her flailing into one of those same grubby men she had just been turning her nose up at. The impact forced them both to the ground, Ginny landing on top of the man in a position that would have been very questionable indeed had they been wearing a little less clothing.

She groaned, trying to get her bearings again, when she suddenly found herself faced with a pair of glaring, grey eyes. Half of the man's face was obscured by a blue bandana—no doubt to stop him from breathing in all the sand and dust that seemed to infest this horrible place—so she couldn't gauge much more of his appearance than that, but his hair was blond (or, at least, she assumed so, as it was looking rather dirty right now) and his body was certainly nothing to scoff at. Not that she cared. It was just difficult not to notice how well formed he was when she was lying on top of him. Then again, all brutes usually did have nice bodies from all the physical work they did. That was all they were good for, after all.

"Do you mind getting off me?" snapped the man in a brusque voice. "And move that ridiculous parasol while you're at it before you stab my eye out."

Ginny clutched her wounded parasol closer to her chest, but obliged him in his wishes all the same. It wasn't like she wanted to sit on him anyway. He was in desperate need of a shower, not to mention stunk horribly like sweat.

She inwardly snorted to herself. What did Ron call it again? Ah, yes. _Essence of Man_. Well, she would quite happily pass on _that_ smell. Give her a man smelling of expensive cologne any day.

The brusque man stood up from the ground and brushed the sand off his pants. Not that it made any difference. His clothes, which were loose and designed to keep the wearer cool, were covered in grime. He probably thought he was so clever in his practical clothes. Well, she may have trouble walking even the smallest distance in hers, but at least she looked damn good doing it. These people wouldn't understand fashion sense even if it danced naked in front of them wearing one of their hideous helmets.

Ginny threw a lofty look his way and then made to stand up from her position on the ground. This proved rather difficult. Not only was she wearing very high and finicky heels, but she was also wearing a tight-fitting skirt that didn't allow much room for leg movement.

A low chuckle soon had her eyes snapping back to the man standing next to her. She may have not been able to see his face, but she could tell by the amusement glinting in his eyes that he was laughing at her. And how dare he laugh at her anyway? Stupid grey-eyed man with his stupid, nice body. She noticed that _he_ didn't seem to be cursed with lobster-pink skin like all the other fair-skinned males she had seen. No, his skin was a lovely golden colour that made his eyes stand out all the more spectacularly. Still, he was nothing but a brute who dug holes. He didn't do the actual curse breaking like her brother. And he stunk. And he was laughing at her.

Ginny scowled at him. "If you have any gentlemanly decency in you, which I highly doubt, would you please give me a hand?"

The man laughed again and pulled the bandana down from his face. Ginny's jaw dropped. She had never thought he would be so handsome under the grubby blue thing, for handsome he indeed was. There was something incredibly masculine about his striking features, and yet there was something elegant about him at the same time. One could hardly consider him pretty, his features were far too harsh for that, but he was definitely beautiful in all his male glory.

It was odd, but for some strange reason his eau de cologne, that universal _Essence of Man,_ didn't seem so terrible to her now. In fact, it only added to his masculine charm.

Ginny blinked. She did not just think that.

Letting out an indignant huff, more at her own weakness in even considering the brute before her attractive, she glared up at him again. "Well? Are you going to help me up or not?"

The man smirked at her. "What's the matter, love? Can't stand on your own two feet?" He eyed her from head to foot, and then back again. "Then again, I'm not surprised with that outfit. It's a wonder you even manage to walk at all."

Ginny flushed. "I'll have you know that these are very good clothes. They're certainly a lot more fashionable than the horrible things you're wearing."

"I'm sure they are," he responded with some amusement, "but they're not exactly suitable for a dig site in Egypt, now are they?"

She knew this was true, but she was hardly going to admit it.

He smirked at her again, and then, much to her dismay, he started to walk away.

"Hey!" shouted Ginny, glaring at his retreating figure. "Where do you think you're going? You can't just leave me here!"

"I don't take orders from little girls trying to start fashion parades in the middle of a desert," he said bluntly. "If you can't stand up by yourself, then that's your own damn fault for dressing so ridiculously."

And without a further word, he turned his back on her and headed off in the direction of the campsite. Ginny could only stare after him in indignation. How dare he just leave her like that?

Well, she was certainly right about one thing. He was no gentleman, and he was certainly not worth thinking about. Even if he was very attractive.

No. She would not think about him. He was horrible, and mean, and he had left her in a very annoying predicament.

Ginny muttered a few curses under her breath and then tried to push herself to her feet with her parasol. It was far from graceful, but it did get the job done. She brushed the dust and sand off her backside, throwing another scowl at the men now watching her with amused expressions on their faces. Then she opened her parasol with all the haughtiness she could muster, and stalked off with her head held high towards the campsite.

By the time Ginny made it back to the tent that she had been told belonged to her brother, she was very hot and sticky with perspiration (she did not sweat; she only perspired, or so she claimed), not to mention she was quite certain that it would take her months to get all the sand out of her hair. Needless to say, she was beginning to wonder if she had made the right choice in coming to Egypt, but Ginny was far too stubborn to turn back now. She had come here for a holiday, and so here she would stay.

She thrust the tent door open and stomped inside, only to find herself facing the same blond man from earlier.

"You!" she exclaimed in a voice filled with the deepest loathing.

A smirk tugged at his lips. "I wondered when you would get here."

Ginny glowered at him. He had obviously showered from the last time she had seen him, for his skin was not so dark and grubby, and he had changed into clean clothes. It was ironic, really, for now she was the one covered in dust and grime, and she knew she must look a fright with her red hair falling out of its stylish bun and going all static. But even more frustrating was the niggling feeling that she had seen this man somewhere before, and it had definitely not been in Egypt. There was just something so familiar about him, now that she could actually observe him properly, but she just couldn't place what.

It was in that moment that certain things fell into place. Blond hair, grey eyes, striking features, and an arrogant little smirk. She was staring at none other than Draco Malfoy, the same git that had been the self-proclaimed ruler of the school back in her Hogwarts days. It seemed that he was now the self-proclaimed ruler of her brother's dig site. She had forgotten that he had taken up curse breaking. Obviously he was not afraid to get his hands dirty by helping to dig with the labourers either.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. No doubt he thought it was just _so_ amusing that she had not recognised him earlier.

"What are you doing in here?" demanded Ginny. "I was told this is my brother's tent."

"This _was_ your brother's tent," admitted the blond, "but I'm taking over until he gets back."

"Until he gets back? From where?"

"That's really none of your concern. Now what you _can_ concern yourself with is a portkey back to England."

"_Excuse me_?" exclaimed Ginny, highly affronted. "I came here to visit my brother. If he's currently somewhere else, then I will wait right here until he gets back."

"You can't stay here. Just look at yourself."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" demanded the redhead, placing her hands on her hips.

"You're wearing heels in a desert. I think that says it all."

"You can't send me home because of my shoes!" spluttered Ginny indignantly. "Besides, who says you get to dictate anything? You're not my father!"

"Thank Merlin for that."

Ginny folded her arms stubbornly. "You can't make me leave."

"Oh, can't I?"

Ginny didn't even have time to get her wits together before she found herself being swept quite literally off her feet ("How dare you!" shrieked the redhead) and was carried bridal-style out of the tent in the blond's arms. She tried to get to her wand from her jacket pocket to hex him, but he was making that rather difficult by holding her very closely to his body, and no amount of shouting on her part would make him relent.

The other men at the camp started laughing as soon as they spotted Draco carrying the indignant redhead towards the exit. Ginny felt her cheeks warm in embarrassment, but she was more furious than anything else. How dare he treat her like this! She wasn't one of his trollops that he could just throw around as he willed, and she knew all about those trollops. She did read the gossip magazines, after all.

"Put me down!" cried Ginny, squirming all the while in an effort to try get out of his arms.

"If you keep me moving like that, I'm going to drop you," said Draco warningly.

"Good!"

He smirked. "Very well, then."

Ginny felt his arms release her. There was a large splash, and then a very bedraggled redhead spat water out of her mouth and turned a pair of infuriated brown eyes on the blond now chuckling at her. He had dropped her in the shallow well only the animals dared to use as a water supply. It didn't take her long to realise how slimy and dirty it actually was.

The chorus of laughter that started up around her had Ginny's cheeks flaming a splotchy red and her chest heaving with suppressed rage. She would have liked very much to kill the smirking blond before her right now.

"Now, love, there's no need for you to look at me like that," scolded Draco in a patronising voice. "You did tell me to put you down, after all. I was only doing as you asked."

"Oh, shut up," snapped Ginny.

She really hated him right now. Especially when she could see the silent laughter gleaming in his eyes, for they both knew that she now had to go through the whole awkward procedure of trying to stand up in her heels and too-tight skirt all over again, except this time she had to get out of a well, and she didn't have her parasol to help her.

"Need a hand?" asked Draco in an amused voice.

"I do not need or want anything from you," declared the redhead haughtily, and though it was indeed a struggle, she did finally manage to get back on her feet.

Ginny wiped the slimy residue off her jacket and then brought herself up to her full height as she faced the blond, which wasn't all that intimidating when compared with the man before her, even in her ridiculous heels, as she realised with a disgruntled scowl that she only came up to his chin.

"Well, Mr Malfoy," said Ginny in her loftiest voice, "I see that you've proven yourself just as immature as I remember you, but your little tricks won't get rid of me that easily. I _am_ staying, and you can be sure that my brother will hear about this when he gets back."

She gave him one last withering glare and then flounced off towards the tent they had just left.

"Aren't you forgetting something, Weasley?" Draco called out.

Ginny swung back around on her heel to face him. "What?"

"You don't have a tent, and you certainly can't stay in mine."

The redhead looked just about ready to explode at that, but one of the men who had been watching the whole drama decided to take pity on her and offered her his own tent. Ginny thanked him gratefully, threw another dark look at the arrogant blond still standing by the well, and then stalked off with all the dignity she could muster towards her newly acquired tent.

An appreciative smile tugged at Draco's lips as he watched the redhead's retreating figure; more specifically, the very nicely formed derriere that was certainly put off to advantage when combined with a tightly fitting, and now wet, tweed skirt.

"That's quite the woman," observed a burly man from next to the blond.

Draco made a noncommittal noise, still absorbed with watching the redhead's entrancing progress. When he spotted his companion's knowing grin, a scowl quickly formed on his face.

"Get back to work, Ethan," snapped Draco.

"Yes, sir."

Draco turned back to the redhead, scowl still in place. Yes, she was indeed quite the woman, and he was quite certain that she was going to become a damn nuisance for his camp, if not for her high-and-mighty ways, then at least for the taunting little temptation she presented in those ridiculous outfit of hers.

OOOO

Several hours later, after Ginny had cleaned all the grime and slime off her body and changed into new clothes (a white, flowing sundress that came just below her knees and accentuated the womanly curves of her body), she finally left her tent to discover what she could about her brother. She was no longer wearing the stiletto heels, but her wood-wedge sandals could hardly be considered ideal either. However, she did look very feminine and enticing, so the men could hardly complain.

Draco glanced up from where he was working and barely managed to repress rolling his eyes. Ginny was not blind to this reaction, but she held her head up high all the same and walked calmly towards him.

"When is my brother coming back?" she demanded by way of greeting.

The blond placed his notes down on the table and considered her through half amused, half exasperated, grey eyes. "Tell me, does your brother even know that you're here?"

Ginny's cheeks blossomed with pink. "That's not what we're discussing here. I asked you when he would be coming back. You can't just change the subject."

He smirked. "Well, the last time I heard from your brother, he had been called in to help with a newly discovered tomb that desperately needed a curse breaker after their own got himself petrified, so I'd say he won't be back here for another week at least."

"Another week?" moaned the redhead, looking quite put out by this knowledge. "What am I supposed to do until then?"

"I don't know, Weasley, and frankly I don't care. This isn't a holiday resort. This is an archaeological dig site. Now if you'll excuse me, some of us actually have work to do."

Ginny could only scowl as he returned to his papers, effectively dismissing her from his presence. She waited a few seconds to see if he would relent (which he didn't) and then turned to leave, throwing one last look back at him to see if her movement had caused any change in his demeanour. She was doomed to disappointment. He was still busy with his papers and showed no sign of paying attention to her again anytime soon.

An irritable huff escaped her lips. Fine, if that was the way he was going to be then she would just have to find a way to amuse herself until her brother got back. It wasn't as if she actually wanted to talk to the blond-haired pillock anyway.

The blond in question allowed himself a small smile as he watched the irate redhead stomp away back to her tent. He was not smiling, however, when he next saw her sunbathing a few hours later, while the rest of the men at the campsite practically fell over themselves as they drooled over her and catered to her every whim. He was even more annoyed when he realised that Ethan, the same burly man who was known to be such a charmer with the ladies, was sitting next to her, and, by the looks of things, keeping her thoroughly entertained.

"Ethan," barked the blond. "Get over here!"

The dark-haired man stood up and jogged lightly to where Draco stood. "What is it, boss?" he asked, obnoxious grin still hovering at his lips.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I was just telling Ginny some stories about our past expeditions."

"Just telling Ginny some stories," repeated Draco mockingly. "Have you forgotten that we are supposed to be looking for the tomb of Isis? It seems like everyone has decided this is a holiday resort ever since little miss princess turned up."

"Sounds to me like you're jealous."

"Jealous?" exclaimed Draco, quite surprised. "What do I have to be jealous of?"

"I don't know. Maybe you don't like that 'little miss princess', as you called her, is taking over the camp, or maybe" – and here he grinned – "you're just bothered because she's not paying any attention to _you_."

Draco scowled. "You're grasping at straws, Ethan. Now get back to work. And tell those idiots to get back to work, too. I'm not paying you all to flirt with Weasley's sister. I'm paying you to dig, and I expect to see some real progress."

Ethan sighed and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'slavedriver' under his breath, but he went and rounded up the other men all the same, where they all grudgingly headed back to the dig site.

Draco, meanwhile, was heading in the direction of a certain redhead. She was reclining on a sunbathing chair, (he wasn't even surprised to learn that she had packed one) her eyes closed, with one leg propped up to allow him a glimpse of a smooth, shapely thigh from where her sundress had ridden up.

"You're blocking my sun," commented the redhead, not opening her eyes.

"Oh, am I?" said the blond, and planted himself even more in the way, so that his frame cast a looming shadow over her body.

She sighed in resignation and then sat up to face him. The expression on her face could only be described as bored. Somehow this annoyed him more than all the ridiculous things she had done that day.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" asked Ginny, and she even had the nerve to glance down at her nails instead of him. "I thought you were busy with your work."

Draco's eyes narrowed. So that was the game she wanted to play, was it? Well, her feminine tricks may work all very well on those other idiots that had been fawning all over her, but he was not an idiot, and he was certainly not going to let himself be wrapped around her dainty little finger.

"Listen here, Weasley," he said bluntly, "I will not have you coming here and ruining things for us. In case you haven't noticed, we actually have a job to do here, and _you_ are only getting in the way of that."

"Don't you think you're overacting just a little bit? I hardly think my sitting here is going to stop your team of merry men from doing their job."

"Weasley, your very presence distracts men from doing their job."

Ginny unfolded her legs and stood up from the sunbathing chair, a slow smile curling her lips. "And do I distract you?"

Draco knew by the smug glint in her eyes that she thought she had him in her little claws, but he was certainly no unsuspecting bird, and he was far more experienced at these games of sparring than she was.

"You're attractive," he allowed, and he was amused to see her smile grow. "But you're not my type."

Ginny's smile froze on her lips. "Not your type?"

"That is what I said."

She glared at him. "And why not?"

He laughed. "I only go for the best of gems, love, and I'm afraid you just don't cut it."

"Don't cut it," she repeated to herself, as if the very concept was foreign to her, and no, that was not because he had decided to use an analogy to do with archaeology.

"What's the matter, love?" he taunted with a smirk. "Hopes all crushed?"

Ginny's eyes flashed. Any of the redhead's friends could have told the blond that this was a sure danger sign that the woman in question was about to do something very impulsive indeed, for let it be remembered that Ginny Weasley was a very impulsive woman, but there were none of those nameless friends here to warn him.

And so it came as a complete surprise to Draco when the redhead gripped him by his collar and pulled him down to her lips for a reckless kiss. It was only natural that he should respond to the warm pressure on his lips, only natural that he should wrap his arms around her and deepen the kiss. It was only natural, but he knew it had been the wrong thing to do when the redhead pulled away and looked at him with triumph gleaming in her eyes.

"Not your type, huh?" she said with a satisfied smile.

Draco struggled to think of a suitable retort to this, but the redhead did not wait for his response. She simply turned on her heel and walked back towards her tent, her smile growing with each step.

Perhaps this holiday in Egypt wouldn't be so bad, after all?


	2. Whatever Ginny Wants

**A/N: I never thought when I first started writing this crazy one-shot that I would turn it into a chaptered fic, yet here I am writing chapter two. Since I have a penchant for making trends, the song I mainly used to write this chapter was Natacha Atlas's cover of _Whatever Lola Wants_.**

**Whatever Ginny Wants**

From a young age, Draco Malfoy had been taught that the world was there to cater to his needs. At age twenty-five, he still felt that this was a justified statement. He was a Malfoy: he was wealthy, a pureblood, and he was handsome. There was no reason why he should not be able to get whatever he wanted, and he had long become accustomed to having the respect and obedience his name naturally demanded from those around him.

That was why he found it difficult to stomach the fact that a silly girl had swept into his camp, preposterous heels and all, and had not only managed to get his men to cater to her every whim, but had also managed to kiss him, effectively stunning him speechless. To top it all off, she then had the nerve to walk away from him as if he were nothing but a conquest that could be easily dismissed once victory was won. He would have her know that he was _never_ one to be dismissed, especially by such a ridiculous girl as herself. His pride would not allow it. This was his camp—at least, it was until Bill got back—and, besides, only _he_ was allowed to dismiss people.

Draco stared at the redhead, who was flirting happily enough with one of the men as she ate her dinner, and once again cursed himself for having given into the temptation of kissing her back. None of this would have happened if he had just kept a better control over himself, but his body just had to decide that it rather liked the feel of her lips on his and should respond in kind, and then his arms had refused to obey him and decided to pull her closer so there was nothing for it but to deepen the kiss. Of course, then she had pulled away from his lips and threw that taunting little rejoinder at him, ruining whatever charitable thoughts he might have cherished for her.

If there was one thing the blond loathed, it was a woman trying to prove a point. The female species seemed to stop at nothing to achieve this victory, and once they had succeeded, they always followed it with a smug smile that made him want to grind his teeth into splinters. He had seen that smile on Ginny's face after she had kissed him, and it was that more than anything else that really stung his pride now. The woman was indeed attractive, that he could admit, but she was also the most annoying, demanding, petulant and frivolous witch that he had ever come across. He simply could not let things end this way.

"What are you looking so wicked about?" Ethan asked, sitting beside him with a pint in hand.

"Just figuring out a way to give little Miss Princess her comeuppance."

"Ah, and what did she do to offend your highness?"

"She kissed me."

Ethan blinked, genuinely surprised. "Well, I don't know about you, but I certainly wouldn't be complaining if that pretty little ladybird decided to give me a kiss."

"Yes, well you would also shag anything that has two legs and breasts."

"I'm a lonely man in a desert," Ethan grinned. "It's in my nature to want a warm body to keep me company on those long, cold nights."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course."

"You still haven't told me what was so wrong with the kiss," Ethan pointed out. "Does she have bad breath or something? I'll tell you, nothing turns me off faster than a woman with bad breath. I remember this one woman I met in Peru—"

"No, Ethan, she does not have bad breath," the blond snapped, cutting short what he was sure was bound to be a very long and tedious story. He'd had enough of those from the burly man to last him a lifetime.

"Then why are you so miffed?"

"Because the little minx only did it to prove her point."

"She gave you _The Smile_, didn't she?"

Draco nodded, scowling to himself at the thought.

Ethan made a noise that Draco chose to take as sympathetic, though, in truth, it was closer to a snort.

"Well, it looks like you've got your work cut out for you. She's quite the feisty one."

"I don't care how feisty she is," Draco scowled, "I'll still get her back in the end. I always do."

But first he needed a drink. His pride was still feeling the sting of the redhead's triumph over him that day, and there was only one way he knew how to heal that wound. So, armed with a drink, and accompanied by the cheerful but obnoxious Ethan, Draco whittled the night away in alcohol-infused brooding. By the time he had collapsed on his bed, he had come to his decision. He would simply ignore the redhead. He'd already seen how it had set up her back before, and he was sure it would work again. Besides, there was no better way to get across that he didn't care for her impulsive kiss than to simply dismiss it as nothing.

She wasn't the first pretty girl to kiss him, and he'd be damned if he'd let her have the satisfaction of getting the better of him because of said kiss. She'd have to do a lot more than that if she wanted to win this little game she had started.

**OOOO**

Ginny placed a pillow over her head with an irritable huff. She had always thought that waking up to an alarm for work was the most annoying noise in the world. Apparently she was wrong. Waking up to the sound of brutish men laughing and talking was far more irritating. It wasn't even dawn, yet the whole camp seemed to have decided it was time to rise for the new day. They couldn't do it quietly either. Oh no, they just had to be obscenely loud. One would almost think they were shouting at each other from opposite sides of a Quidditch pitch rather than just conversing normally.

She huffed again and rolled over the other way, clutching the pillow tightly over her head. Unfortunately, nothing could block the sound of the men joking with each other. One man, in particular, was really beginning to grate on her nerves. He seemed to find everything that was said hilariously funny, and would end up laughing uproariously because of it. The worst part was that he sounded just like a walrus.

Ginny clenched her hands into fists. She didn't even pause to think when she heard the walrus man laugh again; she just kicked the blankets off her body and stormed out of the tent.

"WOULD YOU ALL _SHUT UP_!" the redhead shrieked, putting even a banshee to shame with the ear-splitting intensity of her voice.

All the men stared at her in surprise. Draco, who had been talking with some of the men near his own tent, walked away from the group and came to stop in front of her. He seemed rather amused.

"Is something wrong, Weasley?"

Ginny folded her arms crossly. "Apart from the fact that I got woken up by a laughing walrus and a bunch of stupid men talking? No, nothing is wrong at all."

"Good. Then we'll be on our way."

"Wha—_wait_!"

"Yes?" Draco enquired, turning back to face her with one eyebrow raised. "Is there something you wanted to say?"

Ginny glowered at him. "You just love getting under my skin, don't you?"

Draco laughed. "Believe me, Weasley, if I ever _do_ decide to get underyour skin, you would not be complaining."

Her cheeks flushed a light pink. Draco smirked in response.

"Tell your men to shut up," Ginny snapped, changing the subject before he could embarrass her further. "Some of us are actually trying to sleep."

"I can tell," he responded, eyeing her bed-tousled hair and skimpy nightdress with an appreciative smirk, "but you don't run my camp, love, and I frankly don't care if you get your beauty sleep or not. You see, some of us actually have _work_ to do."

"Beauty sleep? I'll have you know—"

"Save it," Draco interposed. "I don't have time for this right now."

Ginny could only scowl at this, and continued to scowl long afterwards once he had left with his men for the dig site. He had completely ignored her attempts to restart the argument. When she had finally given up her remonstrations and had instead asked him what she was supposed to do all day while he and his men were at the dig site, he had merely shrugged and replied that he wasn't her nanny; he was sure she could take care of herself. If she couldn't handle that, then the Portkey was always waiting to take her back to England.

The redhead glowered to herself at the thought. Never had a man treated her so dismissively in her life. It both piqued and intrigued her, but mostly it just irritated her. He should be worshipping the ground under her feet by now, or at least trying to keep her attention, but he did neither. In fact, he was disgustingly unfazed by her presence. It was as if he felt nothing for her at all, let alone for the kiss they had shared.

Ginny huffed irritably to herself. She just couldn't understand why he refused to do what she wished. Everyone else did. Not Draco Malfoy, though. He just had to go and be disagreeable and behave in the exact opposite way that she had intended. Really, it was enough to make her quite hate him. Here she was slaving away in her efforts to get him to fall at her feet, but he just had to go and spoil all her fun by acting as if nothing had happened. She felt cheated; almost as cheated as that day she had bought a woollen-knit sweater only to find upon reading the label that it was 70% acrylic.

Men were supposed to be predictable. Draco Malfoy was decidedly not.

"There's only one thing I can do," Ginny said solemnly as she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

Her eyes darted to her purse where she knew a certain golden card was hiding. A voice that sounded remarkably like her mother's hinted that perhaps this was not the best idea, but then Ginny thought of Draco Malfoy's mocking laugh and the way he had just walked away from her without a backwards glance. She scowled, snatched up the purse, and then stomped out of the tent.

Twenty minutes later the redhead was seen to be standing in front of a much larger mirror, her woeful expression now replaced with a pleased smile as she twisted and turned to admire her reflection. A rather large assortment of clothes were piled up next to her, blatantly disregarding the 'No More Than Four Items' sign on the wall, but the redhead in question did not seem to be too bothered by her rule-breaking behaviour. It was unlikely that she was bothered by anything much in that moment.

There was nothing like shopping to improve her spirits, so it was no surprise that the redhead had turned to that age-old method of retail therapy to help her deal with her frustrations for a certain blond. The rush she felt when trying on something new was no less pleasurable than the best of toe-curling kisses. The delicious scent of new shoes, the silky caresses of material against her skin – this was a love affair that she could never tire of, and, thanks to the ingenious creation of the golden card (or, as Hermione called it, a credit card), she never had to.

Ginny fingered the golden card lovingly. Her mother may abhor the little card, declaring that her daughter was merely carrying thousands of Galleons of debt in her pocket, but for Ginny it was her saviour. Besides, when she married her rich husband, she would never have to worry about such mundane things as credit card debt.

"Now where did I put that—Aha!" Ginny exclaimed, and reached down to pick up the silk scarf sticking out from underneath the mountain of clothes she had already tried on. She knotted the scarf loosely around her neck and then stared back at her reflection. "Perfect."

"Is everything all right, Miss?" the shop assistant asked from behind the curtain.

Ginny ripped back the curtain. "I'll take the lot!"

"The l-lot?"

"That is what I said."

Really, this one didn't even have the excuse of not being able to speak English. It was quite ridiculous how all the shop people here were always demanding her to repeat herself, and why they had to stare at her like a bunch of goldfish opening and closing their mouths was beyond her.

The transaction was completed, her bags sent off to her tent – Ginny was certainly not going to lug those things around like some common mule – and then she decided it was time to eat.

She was just enjoying a nice coffee when she spotted a familiar blond striding towards her. Judging by his expression, he was less than pleased.

"What is the meaning of this?" Draco growled by way of greeting.

"Meaning of what?" Ginny asked innocently.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Kindly explain to me, Weasley, why our camp is overrun with what I assume must be your shopping bags."

Ginny blinked. "But I told them to send the bags to my tent."

"Apparently your concept of volume is faulty. Even a palace would not be able to hold your purchases," the blond responded dryly.

"How ridiculous. Of course it can hold them all. I didn't buy _that_ much."

But when Ginny returned to the camp and saw the multi-coloured (and bulging) bags spilling out of the tent she had been given, she felt just a small quiver of apprehension. Surely she couldn't have bought that many clothes? She remembered buying a new jacket, and some gold earrings. Oh, and then there were those cute dresses she had found in that little boutique store. The green one had looked the best, but she'd rather fancied the blue one as well, so it only seemed natural to buy both. And then, of course, she had to get some shoes to match the dresses, and jewellery, and—

"Weasley," Draco said bluntly, interrupting her thoughts. "What are you going to do with these bags? You can't leave them here."

Ginny stared helplessly at the mountain of shopping. She wondered if she would be able to expand her already expanded suitcase to fit them.

Draco stared at her suspiciously. "How did you even afford all of this, anyway?"

Ginny looked a little happier at this question, knowing that was something she _could_ answer.

"With my golden card, of course."

"Golden card?" Draco stared incredulously into her beaming face. "Weasley, please don't tell me that you were stupid enough to buy hundreds of Galleons worth of clothes and accessories on a golden card."

"But how else could I buy it?"

Honestly, and he called her the idiot. He must know that her family was as poor as dirt – something she had always lamented – and that she would never be able to buy anything nice unless she borrowed money from the Gringotts' goblins. And what nice goblins they were, too. They were always willing to increase her allotted amount of Galleons when she ran out.

Draco gripped her shoulders and even gave her a little shake. "You idiotic girl. Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"Get your hands off me, you great brute!" Ginny exclaimed, highly affronted.

He released her immediately, but his expression was no less unforgiving.

"Don't think your brother isn't going to hear about this. Maybe he'll be able to knock some sense into that feather-headed brain of yours."

"What I do with my money is none of your business," Ginny retorted primly. "Neither, for that matter, is it Bill's."

"Oh, I think he'll soon make it his business, and he'd be stupid not to."

Ginny straightened stiffly to her full height. "Thank you, Malfoy. I believe you have said enough."

"Yes, I think I have. It's obvious nothing I say will make you realise the idiocy of your behaviour."

He stalked off without a further word, leaving Ginny fuming by her mountain of shopping. Unbidden, hot tears leaked down her cheeks, and she wiped them away irritably before stomping inside her tent – or at least as far as she could get before the overwhelming number of bags halted her progress. She tried to push them out of the way to make room, but this only caused more bags to topple down from the pile – one of which barely missed her nose.

Ginny let out a pitiful moan and collapsed on the floor, crushing several of the shopping bags in the process. She would rather suffer a hundred bad hair days than admit that Draco was right, but the guilty, hollow feeling in her stomach hinted that perhaps he did have a point. Whatever she had achieved today, it was definitely not putting Draco in his place. If anything, she had only confirmed to him that she was indeed as fickle and foolish as he had always thought her. Somehow, this hurt more than anything else.

"Well done, Ginny," she said to herself. "You've really done it this time."

There was a light tapping on the tent door.

"Go away, Malfoy!" Ginny shouted. She was in no mood to have more salt rubbed in her wounds.

The tent flap was pulled back, and she looked up to see Ethan, not Draco, standing before her.

"I'm wounded, Ginny," he said dramatically. "Do you really think Draco would knock?"

Ginny laughed in spite of herself. "No, I suppose he wouldn't."

He grinned. "So can I come in?"

"If you can find room," Ginny muttered with a sigh.

Ethan considered the piles of shopping bags surrounding her. "It'll be a tight fit, but I'm sure I can manage."

She smiled as he took a seat next to her – and flattened several more of her shopping bags in the process.

"I can't believe you even want to talk to me," she muttered. "You must think I'm such an idiot."

"I do," Ethan admitted.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "That's _not_ very comforting."

"Now, darling, don't get your hackles up. You know very well you've made a right botch of things."

She lowered her gaze to her hands. "I know."

"So what you need to do now is decide what you're going to do to fix it."

"Fix it?" Ginny repeated, scrunching up her face.

She'd made many mistakes in her life, but no one had ever expected her to actually do anything about them. Her father had always been there to heal her bruises, her brothers never failed to make excuses for her failed relationships – blaming it all on the boys, of course – and when Ginny had quit (or just been fired) from job after job, no one had thought to make her suffer the consequences. They'd always been there to pick up the pieces, giving her a place to stay, money to spend, and food to eat. So it was no surprise that, for Ginny, fixing something herself was about as foreign to her as the sandy desert she now found herself in.

She stared at Ethan blankly. "I don't understand. What are you expecting me to do?"

"Well, rethink your spending habits for one thing. Just look at all this rubbish!" He gestured vaguely at the bags.

"It is not rubbish!" Ginny cried, instantly rushing to the defence of her purchases.

Ethan raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

Ginny's shoulders slumped. "Well, maybe not _all_ of it was necessary."

"I'd say that's a bit of an understatement." He looked at her gravely. "Now I like you, Ginny, so I'm going to be honest with you. What you've got here is a one-way ticket to debtors' prison, and I'd hate to see such a pretty girl like yourself stuck in one of those hell-holes."

Ginny eyed him suspiciously. "Malfoy didn't set you up to this, did he?"

"Of course not," he said stoutly.

She didn't buy it for a moment, and suddenly she was standing on her feet, her eyes sparkling with rage.

"Oh, I don't believe this!" she cried, knocking more shopping bags over in her anger. "How dare he send you to lecture me?"

"Look, Ginny, we're only trying to help."

Ginny pointed a trembling finger at the door. "Get out!"

"But—"

"Get out!" She cried again, stamping her foot. "Get out! Get out! Get _out_!"

Ethan stood up, holding his hands out in an appeasing gesture. "Alright, I'm leaving, but think about what I said. We really are only trying to help."

Ginny responded to this by throwing a shopping bag at his head, which had Ethan quickly making his retreat. She let out a deep breath as the tent door fell closed, and then she collapsed back on her shopping bags and indulged in a hearty cry.

They were right. They were all right, and the fact that Draco had been appalled enough by her behaviour to set Ethan onto her to try where he himself had failed was as depressing as it was humiliating.

Ginny glanced at the set of heels sticking out of the bag near her face. They were beautiful shoes made of black satin, and had a single bow on top. She pulled one out of the bag and admired it for a moment, and then she let out a morose sigh.

She knew what she had to do, and though it would kill her to do it, it was the only option she had left if she wanted to prove to Draco that she was not just a silly girl. It didn't occur to her to question why it was so important for her to have his respect.

Ginny reluctantly put the shoe back in the bag. "You would have looked perfect with my little black dress," she murmured sadly.

She sighed again and then pulled out an exceedingly long piece of parchment from the bag. It was going to be a long day, but she would make Draco eat his words by the end of it. He probably thought he was so practical with his frugal spending habits (though it wasn't as if he had to worry about getting into debt with all his Galleons), but she'd show him that she could be just as pragmatic when it came to money.

It would be a sacrifice, but it would be worth it. She'd wipe that superior look from his face; she would make sure of it.

**OOOO**

The sun was just beginning to die, leaving the sky a magnificent spectacle of orange, pinks and red. Draco, however, had no desire to admire the sunset as he walked back to the campsite. Once again they had failed to locate the temple of Isis, and the thought of having to deal with Ginny and her ridiculous shopping habits did little to cheer his mood. He was tired and hungry, and right now he would have given anything to have Bill back, if only to get rid of the annoying female that had decided to take up residence at his camp.

But when Draco finally got to the campsite, there was no sign of the multitude of bags that had overwhelmed it earlier. He wondered where on earth she had managed to fit them all, for not even the most accommodating of spelled suitcases would have housed that collection.

Draco spotted the redhead reclining on her sunbathing chair, this time wearing a black bikini that was as scandalous as it was alluring. His eyes narrowed, and his mood, which had already been on edge, was not improved at the sight of his workers staring at her in vacant admiration. This charade of hers had gone too far.

He strode forward and stopped in front of her. "Do you see an ocean or a swimming pool around here, Weasley?" he asked dryly.

"We're in a desert," Ginny responded, looking at him as if he were stupid.

"Exactly, Weasley, we're in a desert, so why are you wearing that?"

She sighed. "You know, Malfoy, I never picked you for a prude."

"What?" he spluttered. "I am _not_ a prude."

"Then why do you care if I'm wearing a bikini or not?"

"Because it's just ridiculous!" Draco cried, finally losing his patience. "You're in a desert for Merlin's sakes."

"Yes, Malfoy, I'm in a desert, and in a desert there is a lot of sun, which you are currently ruining."

She gave him a pointed look. Draco simply raised an eyebrow.

"You have some nerve, Weasley."

Ginny lifted her chin. "It's not my fault you can't handle my presence."

"That's because your presence is akin to a sandstorm: _unwanted_."

Ginny's eyes flashed. "I think I've had enough sunbathing. The sun is going down now anyway. It must have sensed you coming."

"Very funny."

"Yes, I thought so too," she agreed serenely, and made to step past him.

"Wait a minute," he said, blocking her path.

"What?" she sighed, glancing up at him in resignation.

"What did you do with all of those bags?"

He was surprised to see a small smile curl her lips.

"I took them back."

He frowned. "Took them back to what?"

"To the shops, idiot. I took it all back."

For the second time that week Draco Malfoy found himself speechless.

"Oh," was all he could think to say.

Ginny smiled sweetly up at him. "If you'll excuse me, Malfoy; I would like to get to my tent."

Draco silently moved aside for her, still too stunned at the thought of her actually doing something sensible to really think about what he was doing. Ginny thanked him and then strolled back to her tent, and he couldn't help but note the way her hips swayed with smug confidence.

"Well, I'll be," Draco murmured, unable to stop the appreciative smile from coming to his lips.

Ginny Weasley was proving to be just full of surprises.


	3. Material Girl

**A/N: Sorry for the wait. University has butchered my writing capabilities, but I was so tired of academic nonsense that I decided I would write something fun, to hell with deadlines. **

**The song I mainly used to write this chapter was Madonna's **_**Material Girl**_**. Ah, the irony. **

**Material Girl**

The next morning Ginny got woken up by the usual chorus of men talking and laughing. Since she knew she had no hope of falling back asleep, and since she had no intention of being stuck at the camp by herself again for the day, she scrambled out of bed, threw on some clothes, and did her hair up in a simple ponytail. Ginny then washed her face, brushed her teeth, put on some deodorant (she certainly wasn't going to smell like those horrid men) and darted out of the tent – all in record time. Really, she thought she deserved a medal for being so quick with her morning routine. She hadn't put any makeup on, and she had spent less than _twenty_ minutes deciding what to wear, which was a sheer miracle. She hadn't got dressed that fast since she had attended Hogwarts, and that was because she'd had no choice but to wear the school's horrid uniform back then.

Ginny spotted Ethan standing by the gate that led to the dig site and walked up to him. "Hello," she greeted with a bright smile.

"Well, would you look at you," Ethan responded, giving her outfit a cursory glance. "Given up on the dresses, have you?"

Ginny looked down at her clothes (a curve-hugging singlet, khaki shorts that barely reached halfway down her thigh, a green scarf tied loosely around her throat, and flat-heeled ankle boots) and then smiled back at him. "Oh, these are my ugliest clothes. I thought if I was going to join you at the dig site, I should probably try to wear something similar to what all of you wear."

Ethan blinked. "You're joining us at the dig site?"

"Yes."

"Does Draco know?"

"Well, no," Ginny admitted, "but I don't see what it has to do with him."

"It has everything to do with him. A dig site is a dangerous place, Ginny. If anything were to happen to you, it would be on Draco's head."

"I hardly think I'm going to hurt myself in your silly holes," Ginny said loftily. "Besides, I refuse to stay here by myself again."

"Then you'd best take it up with Draco."

"Fine." Ginny peered around the camp. "Where is he? I'll go ask him right now."

"He's still in his tent, but I wouldn't—"

"Thank you," Ginny interrupted before he could finish his sentence and stalked off back towards the tents.

She spotted Draco's tent and scowled at the closed door, thinking it was just like him to sleep in while his men did all the work. Well, she wasn't going to grovel on her knees to such a hypocrite. She would just walk in there and tell him that she was going to come to the dig site with him, and if he didn't like that, then she would tell everyone that he—that he—

Well, she would think of something. For now, she would just get the first part of her plan out of the way.

Ginny took a deep breath and marched through the door, only to stop short when she came face-to-face with a naked man.

"Oh, my!" she exclaimed, then quickly clamped a hand over her mouth.

There was a naked man in the tent. A very good-looking naked man. A very well-defined (not to mention well-endowed) naked man, and he was barely two feet away from her.

_Stop staring, Ginny!_ her mind screamed. _You're embarrassing yourself. Eyes back on his face. __**Back on his face**__, damn it!_

Ginny managed to wrench her gaze away from Draco's body and met his somewhat startled yet amused grey eyes. For a moment they just stared at each other – she getting increasingly redder by the second – and then, very deliberately, he picked up his towel from the bed and wrapped it around his waist.

"You know, Weasley," he began, completely unruffled, "most people think it polite to knock before entering."

If it were possible, Ginny went even redder. "Well, if I had known you were going to be prancing around naked, I would have knocked."

"I was hardly prancing."

"You know what I mean!" she snapped, looking rather frazzled. "And can you put some damn clothes on?"

She was finding it incredibly difficult to think straight with him standing there, his toned chest and arms bare for her to see, and his hair all wet and mussed from his shower, or bath. Whatever. The point was that he was only wearing a towel – and looking very delectable, her treacherous brain added – and she did not need any more excuses to find this blond-haired pillock attractive.

Draco's mouth curved into a smile. "Well, Weasley, I would have already got dressed by now except that you decided to interrupt me. You can stay and watch if you like, but I was under the impression that you'd prefer to leave."

"I don't know why you'd think I want to watch you get dressed," Ginny retorted, even as her cheeks flamed with red. "I shall wait outside."

"Very well," Draco said, still looking the epitome of calm.

Ginny scowled and stormed out of the tent, thinking it highly unfair that she should be the one to get embarrassed when he was the one who had been caught naked. No doubt he thought he was so well-proportioned and gorgeous that he had nothing to worry about should the whole world see him without clothing. In fact, he'd probably still stand there with that silly smirk on his face – which was _not_ attractive – and tell the people of the world that they should have knocked first, but that they could keep watching him get dressed if they felt so inclined.

"Idiot," Ginny muttered under her breath. "He thinks he's so wonderful, and—"

The tent flap was pulled back and Draco walked out, making Ginny jump in fright.

"Don't do that!" she cried, clutching a hand to her heart.

"Sorry," Draco said in an unconvincing way, not even looking at her as he fixed up his shirt. "Now what is that you want? I'm assuming you _do_ want something, since you so kindly decided to barge into my tent unannounced like that."

Ginny lifted her chin, not liking his tone or the dismissive expression on his face. "I came here to say that I'm coming to the dig site with you."

Draco gave a low laugh. "No, you're not."

"Who are you to say what I can and can't do?"

"I'm the leader of this campsite, that's what. Now, if you don't mind, I have to go and meet my men."

"Don't you walk away from me! _Hey_!" Ginny cried, stomping after him. "I'm talking to you!"

Draco turned back to face her, an exasperated expression on his face. "Look, Weasley, you can rant at me all you like, but it's not going to persuade me to let you come to the dig site with us. I mean, just look at you."

"What's wrong with this?" Ginny retorted, gesturing to her shorts and singlet. "It's not like I'm wearing a dress."

"Oh, I know. You're almost wearing something practical today – even if you do look like you've just walked out of a fashion spread on archaeologists. But it wasn't your outfit I was talking about."

"Then what?" Ginny demanded, taking a step towards him with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

The difference in their height became ridiculously apparent as she drew closer to him, and she faltered when she came face-to-face with his chest. This was why she couldn't stand flat shoes: it allowed stupid men like Draco Malfoy to tower over her, and she knew how much he was probably enjoying that. No doubt he thought he was so special with his excessive number of inches, standing there in that cocky way of his with one hand on his hip and a smug smile on his face. Well, in her opinion, he was nothing but a brutish, blond giant. There was nothing attractive about a man who could give her a crick in her neck. Absolutely nothing.

Draco's smile turned decidedly amused as he looked down at her, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. This made Ginny more flustered than ever, and she straightened to her full height, trying to look defiant, but only succeeded in looking petulant.

"You can't stop me from coming to the dig site with you," she declared, folding her arms.

"You want to bet?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare dump me in that water trough again."

He laughed. "I almost forgot about that."

"Well, I haven't. You completely ruined my tweed skirt and jacket – not to mention a perfectly good set of heels."

"I'm sure you'll survive."

"No thanks to you," she muttered, scowling. "You know, after everything you've put me through, I think it only fair you let me come with you to the dig site today."

He shook his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Not a chance, Weasley."

Ginny stamped her foot. "Why won't you just let me come? I promise I'll be good."

"Did you just stamp your foot?" he asked, half-laughing. "Honestly, Weasley, how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-four," she responded, lifting her chin.

"Oh, _twenty-four_. And here I thought you were three."

"Very funny," Ginny retorted, rolling her eyes. "So are you going to let me come to the dig site or not?"

Draco considered her for a moment, taking in her folded arms and mulish expression. "Fine," he sighed, "you can come."

Ginny brightened immediately. "Really?"

"Yes, really, though I don't know why you're so intent on coming with us," Draco muttered, walking ahead. "You won't enjoy it."

"It's got be a lot more interesting than hanging around here all day," Ginny retorted, walking double-time to keep up with his longer strides.

"You could always make dinner for us hungry, working men."

"Do I look like your house-elf?" she demanded, placing a hand on her hip.

"Weasley, if you looked like my house-elf, I would be concerned."

Ginny glared at him. She didn't know how he always managed to twist her words so that she was the one who looked foolish, but it was really beginning to grate on her nerves. Still, at least she had managed to get him to agree to let her come to the dig site.

For a moment, she thought she really would be stuck lounging about the camp for the day, and she did not want that. She'd already finished the book she had brought with her, boring as it was (this was certainly the last time she would accept a book recommendation from Hermione), and there was only much she could tolerate of sunbathing before she got bored – and more freckled.

"Well, I don't care," Ginny said loftily. "I refuse to spend my holiday stuck at this camp by myself while you're all off digging in your big holes."

"Ah, yes, I forget that you think you're on a summer trip. Tell me, Weasley, do you even know what we're searching for?"

"Treasure?" she hazarded.

Draco sighed. "I really hope I don't regret this," he muttered under his breath.

"Regret what?"

"What do you think?" he retorted, pausing to face her.

"Worried about me, Malfoy?" she asked, peeping up at him from under her lashes.

"I'm more worried about my own skin, actually. If anything were to happen to you, your brother would kill me."

"Oh, of course. How silly of me to think that you might actually be concerned about anyone other than yourself."

"Don't be stupid, Weasley," Draco said with a smile that made her stomach flutter with treacherous butterflies. "I care about other people – just not silly featherheads like you."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "You know, Malfoy," she began, stomping after him as he carried on walking, "I really do think you are the rudest man I have ever met."

"I'm honoured to hold the title."

She let out a small huff but continued walking behind him in silence, knowing there was no point arguing with him any further. Besides, she didn't want him to suddenly change his mind and force her to stay behind. She knew how unpredictable and contrary he could be. The fact that he had still failed to give her the attention she felt she deserved was a case in point. It seemed that no matter what she did, it was never enough for him.

When they finally caught up with the rest of the men, everyone was already packed up and ready to go. Ginny saw Ethan leaning against the gate, just as she had left him, only now he was grinning at the both of them.

"I see you managed to persuade Draco to let you come with us," Ethan said, nodding to her.

"Much against my better judgement," Draco muttered, glancing down at Ginny. "I'm leaving her in your charge, Ethan. Don't let her touch any of the special equipment, and _don't_ let her out of your sight. The last thing we need is for her to get lost in the desert."

"I'm not going to get lost," Ginny said indignantly.

Draco ignored her. "Is that clear?"

"You got it, boss."

"Alright, let's go then."

Ginny watched as Draco walked ahead to lead the men, not even sparing another glance for her.

"He's just leaving me," she muttered, unable to believe her eyes.

"Well, he's got a job to do, you know," Ethan responded, hoisting his bag of equipment more securely on his shoulder. "Don't worry, love. I'll take good care of you."

Ginny forced a smile at Ethan, but inside she was seething. She thought it was just like Draco to fob her off onto someone else. Not that she _wanted_ to be with him, exactly. He had been very rude to her yesterday, which she was not about to forgive in a hurry. However, just because she was no longer going out of her way to win him over with charms did not mean that he had the right to ignore her like this. She was certain that he would have been the one to take care of her for the day, but there he was prancing around up ahead while leaving her with a man who had taken three seconds to make it known to her that all he wanted was to get up her skirt.

"Ready to go?" Ethan asked, grinning down at her.

"Yes," Ginny sighed, glaring at the blond's retreating figure. "I'm ready."

Ethan clapped her on the shoulder, earning a dark look from the redhead. "Right," he said, completely oblivious to her irritation, "let's go!"

Ginny sighed and followed the burly man into the desert. It was quite a windy day and the sand kept getting into her eyes, making her curse under her breath more than once. Ethan looked down at her from time to time, a distinctly amused glint in his eyes, which made Ginny even more irritated. People always seemed to be laughing at her in this horrid sandpit. She wasn't sure she liked it, either. _They_ should be the ones acting as a source for her amusement, and they would be if she was still in London – back where it was cool and civilised, and people actually wore clothes that didn't look like they had a month's worth of sand etched into the linings.

"Here we are!" Ethan exclaimed, dumping his bag down.

Ginny took in the familiar dig site, with its many holes and planks of wood dotted around. It was in one of those same holes that she had first met Draco after she had fallen on top of him. He'd been very rude to her, which was no surprise, and had not even bothered to help her back to her feet, even though he knew her heels and skirt would make it difficult for her. But it wouldn't do to dwell on those memories. Not when she could remember very vividly what it had felt like to be pressed up against that toned body of his – a body she had seen naked only minutes ago.

"You alright, love?" Ethan asked, staring worriedly at her. "You look a bit flushed. You did remember to put some Sun-Be-Gone potion on you, right?"

Ginny nodded her head. "I'm fine. It's just the heat."

"It does get a bit intense out here, but you'll be fine. There's a tent over there for you to cool down if it gets too hot."

Ginny thanked him and then looked curiously at the strange equipment he was pulling out of his bag. She realised the bag must have been magically expanded to fit everything.

"What are these for?" she asked, picking up a strange looking shovel. "Aren't these Muggle things?"

"Aye, that they are."

She frowned and placed the shovel back down. "But can't you just use magic? I mean, it would be a lot faster."

Ethan laughed. "You're right, it would be faster, but we can't always rely on magic out here."

"Why not?"

"It's too dangerous. We tried to use magic when we first got here, but some nasty curses got set off, and we weren't even anywhere near the temple then. Draco thought we could try charming the equipment to dig for us, but even then the magic residue on the shovels triggered the spells keeping the temple protected."

"So you've been doing this all manually?"

"Most of it," Ethan replied, rolling up his sleeves.

"But what about Malfoy and Bill? Isn't it their job to remove the curses?"

"Aye, and Draco has been helping where he can, but there isn't all that much he can do until we actually find the temple. That's where the magical core of the curse is, and also where it can be broken."

"So you're just going to keep digging until you find this temple?" Ginny asked.

"That's right."

"It sounds very boring."

"Sometimes it is," Ethan admitted. "I know Draco is getting frustrated that we've made so little progress. According to the wizard historians and archaeological tests we've conducted, we are in the right place, but we've yet to catch any sight of the temple." He grinned and nudged her in the ribs. "But now we've got you to help us, so perhaps we may just find it."

Ginny lifted her chin. "I know you are laughing at me, and I do not appreciate it at all. I _can_ help too, you know. I'm not completely useless."

"Very well, then." He shoved a pickaxe into her arms. "Start digging."

"W-what?"

"You did say you were going to help, didn't you?" Ethan taunted, tying a bandana around his mouth.

"I, well—" Ginny swallowed and took a firmer grasp on the pickaxe. "Yes, I did, and so I shall. I'm sure it can't be too hard. I mean, if all of you can manage it, I'm sure I can too."

"That's the spirit," Ethan said offhandedly, already shovelling at the ground.

Ginny looked doubtfully at the pickaxe and then at the wall of sand – or was it dirt? – in front of her. It looked very solid, and the horrid thing in her hand was a lot heavier than expected. She could see Draco not too far from her, watching her with an amused smile. It was obvious he thought she would not be able to actually work the piece of equipment.

She held her chin high and swung the pickaxe at the wall. A pathetically small bundle of debris crumbled to the ground, some of which got into her mouth, making her cough. Ginny closed her eyes as the laughter started up around her, feeling herself growing redder and redder by the second. Just when she thought she would explode with humiliation, someone put an arm around her shoulders and she opened her eyes to see Ethan grinning down at her.

"Don't let it get to you, love. For a first go, that wasn't so bad." He winked at her. "Just try to use a bit more strength in your swing next time."

Ginny's blush deepened and she looked up to see Draco openly laughing at her expense. She gritted her teeth and turned back to face the wall. She would not let this stupid pickaxe get the better of her, and she would _not _let Draco Malfoy win. She'd show him that she wasn't a silly featherhead. He might laugh at her now, but she'd show him – and all those other stupid brutes, for that matter – that it didn't take being a stinky, unrefined man to work at a dig site. She could be just as useful as the rest of them, and, unlike her male companions, she would smell damn good while she did it.

She removed the scarf from her neck and used it to cover her face to stop herself from breathing in the sand, then took a firmer grip on the pickaxe.

"You just watch, Draco Malfoy," Ginny muttered, taking another precarious swing at the wall, and looking quite deranged while she did so. "You just _watch_."

**OOOO**

Several hours later, an exhausted Ginny Weasley tugged the scarf away from her mouth with a groan and slumped to the ground, letting the pickaxe drop out of her hands. She rubbed at the back of her neck and was horrified to feel it damp with perspiration – she refused to admit she could actually sweat like those beastly men. In fact, her whole body was smothered in the horrid, sticky stuff, and it was then that she realised the awful stench that had been bothering her was, in fact, coming from her own pores. Clearly, the deodorant she had bought was faulty.

She gave a small moan of dismay, wondering what other disasters had occurred to ruin her image, and reached into her pocket to bring out a small mirror. A very grubby face stared back at her. Ginny thrust the mirror back into her pocket with a pained expression. She would just forget what she had seen and pretend that she still looked as good as she normally did. So what if she resembled a troll who had crawled out of a rubbish bin. The dirt could be washed off, and she was sure the sand would come out of her hair. Eventually.

Ginny wriggled uncomfortably and wondered how long it would take to get the sand off her body. She could feel the tiny grains sticking to her like a second-layer of skin. There even seemed to be sand in her underwear.

"Well, well," an amused voice drawled from above her, "look how the mighty has fallen."

Ginny lifted her face and saw Draco leaning on a shovel, smirking down at her from the edge of the hole.

"Go ahead and laugh," she sighed, letting her head fall back against the wall. "I'm too tired to care right now."

"I can see that," he replied, chuckling, and then a crease formed on his brow. "Where is Ethan?"

"Oh, he went to get me some food. I didn't get a chance to have breakfast this morning, you see."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "So Ethan has become your new house-elf, has he? I'm disappointed, Weasley – especially after your little rant this morning. This hypocrisy of yours is not at all flattering."

"Well, Malfoy, you men are always so wonderful at doing what you're told that I just can't help myself."

"Charming. I wonder how thrilled Ethan would be to do your bidding if he knew you were just using him as your own personal slave."

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind," Ginny responded, standing up and brushing the dirt and sand off her shorts. "He's taken quite a fancy to me, you know."

"I bet," Draco said dryly.

Ginny ignored the barb and met his gaze, a rather rebellious sparkle in her eyes. "So, are you surprised?"

"Surprised about what?"

"That I didn't give up, of course!"

"Oh, of course. I'm very impressed, Weasley. You actually managed to make yourself useful for once instead of acting like a spoilt princess. Would you like a gold star to celebrate your achievement?"

Ginny clenched her hands into fists. "Nothing ever pleases you, does it, Malfoy? It seems like no matter what I do, you always have a sneering remark to make in response. I don't even know why I bother to try. You clearly have made up your mind that I'm nothing but a stupid girl who can't do anything but look pretty and wear nice clothes."

Draco's expression softened slightly, his eyes taking on a much warmer tone. "I was only teasing, Weasley. You did well today. Much better than I thought you would, I have to admit."

She wiped her eyes angrily, refusing to accept his apology, even though she did think he was being sincere. Draco shot her a suspicious glance.

"Are you crying?" he demanded.

"No," she muttered, still rubbing at her eyes. "I'm just tired and hungry, and I _smell_."

The last word ended on a piteous moan, which set Draco off laughing again. She glowered up at him, not at all impressed that he was finding her predicament so amusing.

"What's so funny?"

"You," he said frankly.

She opened her mouth to make a retort, but then he flashed her a disarming smile and held out his hand to her. "Come on, Weasley. I think it's time you have a break. You really do look like you need it."

Ginny accepted the proffered hand – only because she knew she would have trouble getting out of the hole – and was pulled with surprising speed up to his level. She lost her footing, not having expected to be lifted so abruptly, and fell straight into his arms. She would have continued falling, too, had he not thought to grasp her by the waist with his free hand. Their eyes met, and Ginny licked her lips nervously, hyper-aware of the fact that she could feel every inch of his firm, masculine body.

Something changed in his eyes as he looked down at her, and the hand he had on her waist shifted slightly, caressing the curve of her hip. Ginny vaguely wondered if he would close the distance between them, and was just thinking that she wouldn't mind at all if he did, when she suddenly heard someone calling her name. She turned her face to see Ethan grinning and waving a bag of sandwiches.

"I hope you like pickle and cheese," he said, coming towards them.

She heard Draco let out a small breath, and then the blond was no longer touching her.

"Hello, what's going on here?" Ethan asked, taking in their close proximity.

"Nothing," Draco said dismissively. "Weasley was just showing me how graceful she is by trying to knock me over again. It's beginning to make me wonder if this clumsiness of hers is intentional."

Ginny threw him a disgusted look. "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I hardly make it my mission in life to fall in your way whenever the opportunity presents itself. I'm not that desperate."

Draco's mouth twitched. "If you say so."

She sniffed haughtily and then walked over to Ethan, taking the burly man by the arm. "Come on, Ethan, we shall eat over there."

Ethan threw the blond a grin over Ginny's head and walked with her to the large tent that had been set up for the diggers to relax during their breaks. Draco thrust his hands into his pockets, watching the two of them with a slight frown on his face.

"You alright, boss?" one of the diggers asked.

"What?" Draco mumbled, dragging his eyes away from Ginny.

The man glanced towards where Draco had been looking and let out a heavy sigh. "He _always_ does this. I was the one who gave her my tent, but somehow it's always Ethan who gets all the attention. Seems like you've lucked out as well."

Draco stared at the man blankly. "What's your name again?"

"Oh, my name is Bert."

"Bert," Draco repeated. "Well, Bert, you can be certain that if I wanted Weasley's attention, it would be me eating with her, not Ethan. Now stop mooning over the stupid wench and go make yourself useful."

"Y-yes, sir."

Draco stared back at Ginny and Ethan, the frown deepening on his face. He was tired of people thinking he cared about that stupid, fluttery redhead. She was a nuisance to his comfort, nothing more.

And what the hell was Ethan doing touching her cheek, anyway?

He walked towards them, just catching Ginny saying anxiously, "Do I really look that awful?"

"Darling, you look _terrible_, but don't worry, you're still the prettiest lass here – even with all that dirt on your face."

She smiled, and Draco suddenly felt like grinding his teeth together. He straightened to his full height, fully intending to go over and stop their little tête-à-tête, when one of his workers blocked his path.

"What do you want?" Draco snarled.

"We need you in Hole Seven, sir. Jimmy thought he'd be clever and try to use magic to make the digging go faster. Now the hole is turning into quicksand, and it just keeps spreading."

Draco let out a long string of expletives, earning the admiration of several of his workers who were privileged enough to hear him, and then stalked off to remove the curse the unfortunate Jimmy had so foolishly triggered.

He would deal with Ethan later.

**OOOO **

Later that night, when they had all returned to the camp site – and Ginny had finally managed to wash the grime off her body – the workers all gathered around the bonfire to celebrate, as Ethan declared in a robust voice, their lady of honour's triumph in proving herself as one of them. Even the workers who didn't care two figs for Ginny were perfectly happy to join in the celebrations, since there was free Firewhiskey being passed around – and very liberally at that.

If Draco Malfoy was less than pleased at the way his workers were behaving, he at least didn't say anything to stop them, for which everyone was grateful. They knew he wasn't happy at the lack of progress they had made in finding the temple, and after Jimmy had set off the quicksand curse and nearly got himself and his fellow diggers killed, everyone knew the blond was bound to be in a tetchy mood.

But Draco was not paying attention to his workers. He was frowning at the supposed lady of honour, who was currently singing with a group of men very loudly – not to mention off-key – about a wizard who lost his bottle of Firewhiskey to a man on a flying carpet. Ethan was sitting beside her, looking highly amused, and occasionally giving her encouragement in the form of more alcohol when needed.

Draco's eyes narrowed. He stood up and walked over to where the small group were sitting and grabbed Ginny by the arm, pulling her abruptly to her feet.

"H-hey!" Ginny exclaimed, trying to free herself from his hold, and almost stumbled backwards in the process. "Unhand me, you great brute!"

"I think you've had more than enough Firewhiskey, Weasley," Draco said calmly, taking the bottle of alcohol out of her hands.

"Oh, come off it, Draco," Ethan said, also standing up. "She's just having some fun."

"She's completely drunk out of her mind," Draco retorted, glaring at his friend, "and if you had any sense, you would have taken that bottle off her long ago."

"I'm not fine. I'm perfectly drunk," Ginny declared indignantly, trying to take her bottle of Firewhiskey back.

Draco gave Ethan a pointed look.

"Okay, maybe she is a little drunk," Ethan allowed, "but you don't have to worry. I'll take good care of her."

"Oh, I'm sure you would love to do that."

"Is this about earlier?" Ethan demanded, looking half-amused, half-exasperated. "Because I already told you, mate, I don't mean to—"

"I really don't care what your intentions are right now," Draco snapped, absently swatting Ginny's hand away from the Firewhiskey bottle. "If you really think I'm going to let you or any other idiot take advantage of Bill Weasley's sister while she's like this, you're highly mistaken. He'd have all our heads on a platter."

Ethan paled at the mention of Bill. "I almost forgot about him. You're right, Draco, I think she's most definitely had enough to drink. Best take her back to her tent."

Ginny, who had struggled to follow most of their conversation, did at least manage to pick up that they were trying to keep the bottle of Firewhiskey away from her.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I will have had enough when I say I have, and there's nothing either of you can do to stop me," she retorted, though the effect was rather ruined since she was forced to clutch onto Draco's shirt to even stay on her feet.

Draco sighed and scooped her up into his arms. "Come on, Weasley. I think it's time you went to bed."

"How dare you!" Ginny cried, hitting his chest. "You put me down right now!"

Draco repressed a sigh and, still ignoring her demands for him to release her, carried her back towards her tent. She quietened the further they got away from the other men, and then, once they were outside her tent, went suspiciously silent. Draco glanced down at her, wondering if she had fallen asleep, but she was simply staring at him through her hazy, brown eyes. It was a little unnerving.

He placed her back on her feet, still keeping an arm around her waist to hold her steady. "Do you think you can get into bed by yourself alright?" he asked, if rather brusquely.

Ginny shook her head.

Draco sighed. "Very well."

He wrapped his arm more securely around her and helped her inside the tent, pushing some of her stuff out of the way so he could place her down on the bed. She smiled up at him as he made sure there was no part of her hanging off the bed, their faces a few inches apart.

"You're going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow," he observed, though not at all unkindly.

Ginny continued to stare at him, still with that unnerving look in her eyes.

"Right," Draco murmured.

He made to step back from her, but then Ginny reached forward and grasped him by the collar, pulling his face down to kiss him full on the lips. He let out a muffled sound as he stumbled forward from the momentum, landing on the bed with her. She immediately wrapped her legs around his waist, deepening the kiss as she pressed herself closer to him. For a moment, Draco almost did lose his head as he kissed her back just as passionately, his hands roaming her body, and then he suddenly remembered where he was and what the redhead's current state of mind was.

Draco pulled back abruptly. "You're drunk," he stated, looking quite appalled with himself.

She licked her lips, staring at him with hungry eyes. "Does it matter?"

He was almost tempted to decide that it really didn't, especially when she started sliding the straps of her dress down like that, but then the wrongness of the situation came back to him with full force.

"No, we can't. You're drunk and I—" He snatched her hands away from her dress. "Damn it, Weasley, stop trying to take your clothes off."

Ginny stared at him innocently. "Don't you want me?"

"I—"

He swallowed and stared at her, feeling the very real temptation to just go with it, to hell with the consequences. But then—

"No," Draco said firmly, holding her hands away from him, which were now trying to slide up his shirt. "I'm not doing this, no matter how ridiculously tempting you look right now." He stood up from the bed, keeping a good distance from the redhead. "Good night, Weasley. I'll see you tomorrow."

Draco turned on his heel and left the tent without a further word. He let out a deep breath as he stood outside the tent and ran a hand through his hair.

"I must be mad," he muttered.

* * *

**Author Note:** Poor Ginny. She's going to be so mortified when she wakes up the next morning and realises what she has done. Hee hee hee.

Sadly, you probably won't be seeing any updates from me for this story (or any of my other regulars) for a while. _**The DG Forum**_ has just started up a new Fic Exchange, so I'm going to be busy with that until further notice. On that note, I'm in need of a beta for my exchange fic. I can't give you the details about it, obviously, but it is going to be Draco/Ginny, so if any of you are interested in being my beta-reader for that, please send me a message and let me know. I should warn you though, since I'm on a pretty tight schedule, you'll need to be confident that you can get the chapters back to me relatively quickly (or at least before the final date when all the fics are due). Anyway, let me know if you're interested. ^_^


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